May 6th - Day 6
Just a little information to start this story off:
1) Robin’s drink of choice up until about 4 years before he died was Growers Apple Cider.
2) My family does not drink. (I am referring to the Friesen side not the Wolff side )
Robin’s and my first Christmas together we headed to Abbotsford to spend with my family, that was 1996. Remember our last “white” Christmas? It snowed so much, that we got completely snowed in with my family, the Friesen side. Robin’s first alcohol free Christmas since he was 19.
Robin was ready for us to go home to Vancouver but the highways were closed. We found out that my Uncle Phil was crazy enough to drive to Vancouver in the blizzard as My Uncle Phil and Auntie Betty had tickets to go see Cats at the Queen E. in Victoria. My families Mennonite background prohibits them from wasting any money for any reason :)
We made our way over to my Uncle Phil and Auntie Betty’s house to get ready for our journey, as soon as Robin took a seat my Uncle Phil offered Robin an apple cider. Robin responded with the most enthusiasm I had seen all Christmas “Oh Yes Please”. When my Uncle returned with the drink in hand I had to stop myself from laughing out loud as my Uncle handed Robin a hot mulled apple juice. Robin could not hide his disappointment.
We proceeded to drive to Vancouver and in my Uncle Phil’s words “ We reached the Mt Lehman exit on Hwy 1 and found that the westbound highway was closed. By this time my windshield wipers were so “iced up” they were not doing much good. We hit a red light as soon as we exited the highway, both Robin and I jumped out of the car and banged the windshield wipers on the windshield to de-ice them! We continued on, occasionally having to stop the car to de-ice the windshield wipers, every time with Robin jumping out of the car to help out. We did make it into Vancouver, dropped Robin and Charlene off at their home.” I am pretty sure Robin’s first stop was the liquor store for some “real” apple cider.
Puento La Reina to Estella - 21.9 km
I started a little latter then usual. I guess I slept a little better last night. Walking out of town there is a really cool bridge. I stopped to take a picture and was joined by other pilgrims starting their journey with a picture. I saw another familiar face, the man with whom I brushed my teeth a couple days earlier. More people were starting to be familiar as I walked. I went to take a picture from another angle and he said "wrong way". I said “Photo” I am speaking to everyone in broken English even if I donʼt know if they speak English or not.
As I walked out of town there was a very steep hill. The guide book said it was steep and it wasnʼt exaggerating, it was steep and hard, I was very relieved to get to the top of that hill. Myself and a tall young woman would take turns passes each other as we tried to get our breath back. We had no extra breaths to exchange conversation. When it leveled off it turned into a beautiful plain. There were ups and downs for the rest of the day but nothing like the first hill out of town.
I continued my pattern from last night and began to talked to more people, I saw Joseph and said hello plus the Canadians. Then Shylo a South Africian walked with me for awhile, he is a historian with lots of insights, a perfect walking companion as we were walking on old Roman Roads; the rocks still evidence of their expansive reign. Then he educated me on the Basque wanting to separate from the rest of Spain which was communicated through graffiti.
I went on further and the tooth brush guy walked up to me and asked me if I had to go to the toilette, I said “no”. He said it looked like I had to go to the toilette, I said "that is the way I walk". I chuckled as he was the first pilgrim to make such a bizarre introduction. I found out his name is Christian. I asked how old he is and he said “39”. I said “you look like your 29”. He asked how old I am I said 47, he said I looked 49. Right away he made me laugh, he is from Sweden but was raised in East Germany. He told me of his wife and family at home and how he just walks and relaxes and his mind is calm as he listens to the birds; I feel envious. He walked on and I talked to Joanna a young woman from Poland. I still never told anyone that my husband had died, it just couldnʼt escape my lips. It felt like I could pull myself together to have these little conversations and then when I was alone I would cry.
As I arrive in town and I found my way to a little parish albergue. Once I was settled I asked how to get to the post office so that I could mail my postcards. Getting back to my albergue was an adventure in itself. I was given a map and when I showed locals where I had to go on the map they couldnʼt show me how to get there. I was a block away at one point and I asked someone and they sent me back down the hill. I was so exhausted, the thought of leaving the albergue again felt daunting. I had told Shylo that I would meet him and some others for dinner but I was not going anywhere. I picked up baguette and cheese and salami and that was my dinner. I had no desire to eat, I just knew I needed the calories for all the walking I was doing.
When I got back I found out that Christian and Joanna were staying at the same albergue. I met some more people who spoke German, Klaus and Margaret. Klaus could talk English the best so was interpreting to include me in the conversation. I told stories of my husband with no reference to him being dead. I said he is the tortoise and I am the hare, my style on this pilgrimage as well. This group all pass me routinely throughout the day. Christianʼs English was limited and did a mime of my slowly walking, he looks like the game at the carnival where the man slowly trudges up the Swiss Alps and you have to shoot him. No I didnʼt shoot Christian but it felt good to laugh even if it was at my expense.
They had no idea how nice this was to laugh and so very hard at the same time. They invited me to go to go to pilgrims mass, I said I would join them after siesta. I think I got too much sun, I was shivering and cold as I lay on my bunk. I wore all my clothes and covered myself with 2 blankets. In bed I cried and cried. As much as it was nice sitting and talking to the group of Germans, I was really pushing myself to interact.
I hadn’t intended on talking with them but when I went to my bunk to write in my journal there was a woman making up her bed who was in the way of my bed so I couldnʼt retreat to my little cocoon. I really didnʼt have a choice. I was pushed to interact by some invisible force and did my journalling outside and I ended up talking. I am glad I did and hope I will feel better in time for mass, but I slept through it. I think due to pushing myself to interact and not feeling well I layed in my bunk and cried, I hope no one could tell I was crying. I told stories of Robin, my husband, like he was alive. I dreaded meeting these people again as I didnʼt want to admit to them and myself that he is dead.
Spending Time in The Moment
My saving grace after Robin died was my grandson Xavier. He lived so in the moment and if I cried he would rub my arm and say, "It's ok Grandma". He is such a wonderful little boy. Sometimes he would have a temper tantrum and I would definitely be pulled to living in the moment. In the moment was the only place I could live; my past tortured me and my future felt hopeless. When Xavier and I would walk around Victoria and have interactions with people in the park I would tell stories of my husband and give them no clue that my husband had passed away.
Before Robin passed away I babysat Xavier 2 afternoons a week, 2 months after this dreadful day I resumed my duties of watching him while Dominique went to college. Now when I walk around Victoria where Xavier and I would come for walks I remember Xavier playing around the fountains or running in the park, first, then I recall the underlying feeling of the loss I felt at the time. When I walked down Dallas Road and looked out at the ocean I remembered first the adorable little 1 year old exploring and running down the path learning how to make Grandma jump up and run after him with glee. I am so happy for myself that I continued on with my life even though I was hurting. I used to think I was crazy for pushing myself now looking back I see it was a gift.
Children have a wonderful way of going where the moment takes you. Being able to play with no time line and no agenda was perfect for where I was emotionally. So as I make this pilgrimage I am proud of myself for meeting new people, even though it is excruciatingly hard.
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